


Misguided Hope For The Future

by Crazy_ginger_kitkat, Pozpopilizity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Crack Treated Seriously, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Petunia Evans Dursley, Good Severus Snape, Good Slytherins, Harry is a Little Shit, Hufflepuff Ron Weasley, Ravenclaw Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Slow Burn, Vernon still sucks, harry having a crush, redemption arcs galore, reincarnation is therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29477802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazy_ginger_kitkat/pseuds/Crazy_ginger_kitkat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pozpopilizity/pseuds/Pozpopilizity
Summary: Privet Drive is a painfully normal place, populated by painfully normal people, living painfully normal lives. The Dursleys (a family of who would endeavour to prove themselves the most normal) had an abstract, abnormal secret. Their young nephew, Harry Potter.Once the family are forced to confront Harrys magical heritage, Harry himself is forced to uncover even bigger secrets, of his own past and others, earning friend and foe along the way.
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter One: The-Boy-Who-Scrapes-By

**Author's Note:**

> a lil AU for Harry Potter me and my friend decided to do for fun, where reincarnation is a thing! the fic mostly takes place in book 1 and 2, and will (hopefully) be continued in a series! feedback is absolutely welcomed!

The murky colored slabs and tiles of the castle corridors shone bright in the early mornings light. The shimmer of rays through droplets of dew cascaded abstract shadows along the halls, which a young lady found herself sprinting down. The bleak, colorless walls of the ancient building merely blended into a mess of greys and browns as she barreled her way into a large door. 

Empty corridors became a grand hall, populated by a sea of children, each in black robes with signature colors. Blues, reds, greens and yellows, the girl did not seem to care as she shoved past them all indiscriminately, finding herself face to face with what she was looking for. The high energy pace once set at the beginning of the morning was maintained, as she unceremoniously intruded upon the pleasant small talk of a group of three.

Each youth was distinguishable by the color of their hair and robes. A brunette boy in green, a redhead boy in blue, and finally, a ravenette girl in yellow. The more our heroine focused on the trio, the fewer facial features she could recognize, as though they were stood at the far end of the room, while also being stood right in front of her. Though she could not identify the inflections in their voices, she was aware of what they were saying. Idle chit chat about their lessons and breakfast meals, as the boy in blue rummaged through his bag.

The young lady couldn’t help but feel jovial, allowing her high energy to invade the calm air surrounding the now group of four. She reached out to the goblet that sat on the table and brought it up to her face to drink. Too swiftly the image passed, long pale blonde locks, a few stray freckles dotting the cheeks, and most noticeably, those bright emerald eyes that shone with the ignorance of childhood and joy that came with it. 

Harry sat up with a start, staring down his cluttered cupboard. This was not the first dream he had of the group, and he denied the thought of it being last. They were commonplace for the young man, always watching through that blonde girls eyes, almost always in the company of at least one other member of the group, and she was always happy and carefree. it was not a lifestyle harry was familiar with. 

Speaking of lifestyles, Harry was abruptly shaken by the heavy footsteps sprinting down the stairs. The weighted steps shaking his cupboard were unmistakable. His cousin Dudley had gotten up. A rare occurrence, that Dudley was awake before Harry, though with it being his birthday, Harry shouldn’t have been too surprised. The following ruckus at his cupboard door was also expected, as Dudley struggled with the numerous unnecessary locks on the door. “Harry, Harry!” called the chubby boy, invading Harry’s only private space with his high energy and excitement. “we’re going to the zoo today! Mum and dad said we could wonder about, too! how epics that?” Honestly, it wasn’t that harry wasn’t appreciative of his cousins bubbly nature, or his easily excited disposition, but for Harry, it was a little too early.

Harry quickly shut down his irritation, rationalizing it by admitting to himself that he hadn’t known the joy of a genuine birthday celebration. No, the most Harry got for his birthday was a half-eaten pack of sweets from Dudley with a sheepish grin, and a day out spent on the streets with the other boy. It wasn’t that harry was unappreciative of his cousins attempts, but it certainly wasn’t a birthday to compare to Dudley's own.

Harry followed Dudley into the living room, and bore witness to a heap of gifts, many from Petunia and Vernon, but the odd few from Dudley's own friends. Each box was wrapped in a different garish paper that was oh so obviously handpicked by Petunia herself. Both Vernon and Petunia had smug grins on their faces, as though this was one of their greatest achievements. “thirty-six,” Vernon confirmed, appearing to be mighty chuffed with himself, “counted them myself.” He finished, watching as Dudley rushed to the larger gifts and tore into them. Harry sat on the floor and watched as his cousin shoved each gift into his face, explaining exactly what it was and how it was an important addition to his collection. Not that harry was all too well aware of exactly what Dudley was talking about. Between tending to the gardens, cleaning the house and cooking the meals, Harry wasn’t able to catch a single cartoon to watch. recognizing the pettiness of ignoring his cousins joy, Harry offered up a weak smile, and responded half-heartedly to each explanation. 

Despite it being Dudley's birthday, Harry couldn’t say it was all too different of a day. The trip to the zoo was uneventful, as harry tailed behind Dudley, who was adamant to see everything. From monkeys to lions, the two boys laughed and pointed, “that one looks like dad!” Dudley exclaimed, pointing a finger to a rather large elephant. The boys were lucky they were being leniently supervised by the two adults, both of them knew that joke would be unappreciated, and that somehow harry would be blamed for the insult if they were heard. 

Harry couldn't say it was a bad day, in fact, as time passed on he found himself brightening up with Dudley. It was only when they approached the Reptile House, that the small family sat to gawk at the large serpent resting behind the glass. After a few moments, Dudley declared the animal ‘boring’ and rushed off to find an animal of more interest, quickly followed by Vernon and Petunia. Harry huffed out a sigh, and turned back to the relaxing snake.

“You’ll have to forgive them,” Harry spoke, using the snake as a means to reflect upon his own situation with the Dursleys, “they don't understand people like us,” He added, slowly lowering his voice, fearing that someone may overhear him. “wanting a nice day to yourself… without people shoving their faces into your business.” Harry laughed breathlessly, but stopped as he watched the snake respond. The snake lugged its large head up into the air, and shook left to right, as though he was silently laughing in agreement. “Wait,” The young boy breathed, “can you,” Harry paused, and looked around in case someone was watching, “can you understand me?” He asked, furrowing his brows. 

Harry shot a few more yes or no questions at the animal, earning a clear response each time. It wasn't until his cousin bolted to his side and gawked in awe. “Mummy! Daddy!” Dudley called out, “The snakes talking to harry! Come look!” 

Harrys life flashed before his eyes. An accidental death sentence from his chipper cousin. Goodbye, Dudley. I'll be with mum and dad soon. He thought to himself, as the grim reaper stalked towards harry in the form of a morbidly obese, furious uncle. "Boy!" Vernon shouted, grabbing Harrys arm and tugging him back towards the exit. Harry heard the grunting and huffing, how uncle Vernon knew this was a bad idea, and should have never let harry out of his godforsaken cupboard. 

But in that moment, Harry could not focus on his uncles harsh words, or the concerned glances of Petunia and Dudley. Harry struggled only to keep eye contact with the snake. The animal he felt so closely represented his own situation, he didn’t want to abandon. Harry just wished he could help the snake in place of himself. He just wanted the snake to be free. 

And so, it was. Harry watched as the glass disappeared and the large Boa Constrictor hoisted its body over the railings, and slithered past the crowds, finding its path between Harry and Vernon, hissing obscenities at the old man. Insults of the like harry had never heard before, and would never have the guts to repeat. Having such a large creature between himself and harry seemed to be enough warning to Vernon, as he hurriedly threw Harry, and rushed away from the snake. The serpent turned its head to harry, offered a polite, "thank you," before announcing its path to Brazil. 

After what Dudley was calling the "snake incident", life for harry potter took a nosedive. Vernon was much more strict than he once was, and Petunia could hardly bring herself to look at the young boy, always averting her gaze, and declaring that she would tend to the garden herself. Harry had fewer chores, but he could hardly class that as a bonus, as he lost the only job he genuinely enjoyed. 

It was a rather uneventful morning. The week had been tame after Dudley's birthday, and Harry was left up to much of his own devices. Though everything seemed the same, both Dudley and harry were well aware of a change. The relationship between Petunia and Vernon had become… rickety to say the least. Breakfasts between the two of them were mostly eaten in silence, and at night when they thought Harry and Dudley were sleeping, there were often hushed arguments about the truth, and the right thing to do. These arguments ended with Vernon declaring that Petunia didn’t know what she was talking about, and leaving the room to go to bed.

Harry, on this particular morning, was sent to fetch the mail. The usual letters appeared, bills, menus and advertisements for nearby businesses, and a single letter that was wax sealed, written in a messy, yet elegant style of calligraphy. To a "Mr H. Potter, Cupboard Under The Stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, SURREY" Harry read the letter over and over, and (quickly recognizing it as his own mail) slid it into the waistband of his pants, hurriedly pulling his oversized shirt to cover the exposed half of letter. If it wasn’t a risk to make noise, Harry would have slipped into his cupboard and tucked it away, but as it stood now, with such silent meals, Harry couldn’t risk it. He quickly brought the mail to Vernon, and asked to be excused back to his cupboard. 

As silent as humanly possible, Harry tore into the letter, tugging the paper envelope softly between his thumbs so that when it split it made next to no noise. Inch by inch, the anticipation and excitement was eating into him. Once the envelope was opened, Harry took great care in soundlessly removing the letter itself. Each crinkle caused the young boy to freeze and crane his neck towards the door, hoping that no one was listening in. 

The contents of this letter left harry dazed and confused. The little shopping list and requirements all blurred in his head as he forced himself to read, re-read, and read once more what was written. Harry quickly found the letter to be some kind of cruel joke. A school for witchcraft and wizardry? Harry couldn’t believe it, and no one could fault him for denying it. So, tucking the letter under his pillow, Harry pushed the thoughts of this Hogwarts place from mind and went about his day. 

Petunia Dursley was not a cruel woman. At least, she did not believe she cruel. In her mind, she was nothing but an innocent bystander to her husband's actions. In some ways, she found herself able to excuse Vernon's reactions to each display of accidental magic. After all, when she was first introduced to magic, had she not reacted the same? Still, sometimes she found things did go rather far, but as the modest house wife it was not her place to cause a scene and disagree with Vernon. They were to be a perfectly normal family, and Vernon, the man of the house, was always right. Because that’s what was normal. That’s just how regular families were. 

So, no. Petunia, in her own eyes, was not a cruel woman. She was only doing what was expected of her. And what was expected of her, was to be quiet. At every insult, falsity and jab at her dead sisters good name, Petunia was expected to remain silent, to not cause a scene. To not be abnormal, or encourage that abnormality in others. And so she did. Petunia was a strong woman, who knew to hold her tongue unless the injustice was too large to ignore. 

Now, with all that said, Petunia Dursley was not an ignorant woman. For all the things she had elected to ignore, the signs of the wizarding world were not one of them. Petunia glowered out the living room window, her stern, cold eyes met that of an owl, perched on the picket fence she had painted a few weeks earlier. Its large, beady eyes bore into her, and she leered back, determined to win this self-imposed staring contest. Only when she blinked, did she tsk and walk away at a brisk pace. It was obvious to petunia that the Wizards were watching, that Harry would be demanded of in more significant ways than mere house chores. 

So, with the sun setting, and a glass of wine in hand, Petunia dared to confront what she had hoped to ignore. Tonight she was going to tell Harry James Potter the truth, Vernon be damned.


	2. Chapter two: No Snakes, No Skulls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petunia and Harry have a chat.

Petunia waited until somewhat late into the night. In fact, by the time she was certain she could have an uninterrupted conversation with her nephew, it was one in the morning. Truly, she felt a slight guilt for waking the boy up at this time, but it wasn’t a conversation that could wait. She mustered all of her courage in the form of wine, and was already four glasses gone by the time she chose to unlock the cupboard and face the thing she'd hope to hide away forever. "Harry," she quietly called, kneeling to tap him on the shoulder. "Harry, wake up." She coaxed, softly stirring the boy from his sleep and encouraging him to join her. 

Harry himself, was not all too happy to be shook awake by his aunt, even if she had done so gently. There was a softness to her voice and touch that harry was almost completely certain was saved for the times Dudley had injured himself. It would have been concerning, if harry couldn’t smell the wine radiating from his Aunt Petunia. 

Following his aunt into the living room, Harry noticed the soft glow of the lamps, bathing the room in a soft orange that was gentle to the eyes. He glanced upon the wine bottle and glass, before darting to the clock to check the time. 1:43am. "Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked, suspicious and concerned of what happened to the woman who demanded nothing short of perfect normality. He watched as she wove her hand dismissively and took a seat on the couch, pointing Harry to join her. 

"Harry," she began softly, her eyebrows knitted together in a display of frustration, while her voice spoke so softly the boy almost thought it held a semblance of empathy. While Petunia was never the one to punish harry, or insult him, she was rotten enough as a bystander. Harry didn’t want to assume anything right now, as his aunt was clearly in a state. "There's no easy way to talk about this," she declared, though harry believed the words were targeted to herself over him. "so I believe I should start where you'll pick up." Petunia nodded to herself in affirmation. "Harry, one day soon you'll receive a letter." 

"A letter," she hesitated, before downing a few more gulps of her freshly poured glass of wine, "from a school called Hogwarts." She finished the sentence with nothing short of an agonised look. "a school for witches and wizards." She clarified, looking upon Harrys face, which was scrunched in confusion. "Harry, you are a wizard." She finished both the sentence and the glass, waiting for a response. When none came, she decided to continue, "I mean, slightly obvious. Not just any random child of the curb could vanish a pane of glass." She said, offering an awkward, and still injured smile, as though she was uncertain how to proceed. 

Harry was stunted for a response. What was he to say? Had his aunt known about the letter? Had she been the one to send it? Was it truly a cruel joke that his family was playing on him in time for his birthday? But then, thinking about it, it somewhat made sense. The odd things that would happen around him, the talking snake, and the Dursleys ever increasing need for a sense of normal. Was this why they hated him so? Because Harry ruined their illusion? 

"Your mother, Lily, was a witch too. And your father, actually, a wizard, though I couldn’t attest to his skill, from all accounts your mother was a brilliant witch." though he could hear the venom in her voice talking about his dad, Harry couldn’t believe how fondly he heard Petunia speak of his mother. How her frozen eyes seemed to warm and melt with the memories. "which is why I want to warn you, harry." The tone of Petunias voice was almost pleading. "when you were merely a year old, your parents lost their lives to a great evil. A man who demanded nothing but power and absolute authority among your kind." Petunia was rambling, trying her best not to pause and question the situation. "Please ask questions Harry, I'm really struggling to organise this conversation." She begged. 

Harry was at a loss. He didn’t know what to do, but he pressed anyway, "why didn't you tell me?" It was a simple enough answer from petunia. 

"I elected to keep it a secret, because I didn’t want you blabbering and having one of those, oh, what are they called..." Petunia paused and rested her hand on her chin in thought, "those blasted Corpse Munchers, as your father so eloquently called them," she nodded, "imagine what we might fail to do, Harry, should one of your parents murderers find out who you are and where you live. Especially after you eviscerated their leader, and we, as your guardians lack the power to protect you." 

Harry quickly interjected, "after I what?" He asked, speaking loud enough that petunia shot a concerned glance toward the living room door. 

"I'm not aware of the complete story," she admitted, raising to her feet to get a new glass, "from the letter I received, I was informed that you had vanquished a dark lord, saved the wizarding world, gotten that lightning bolt scar, in a single night at the ripe old age of one." Petunia waved her hands around, demanding Harry acknowledge how insane of a situation that was. "That you were left on our doorstep because you had blood somethings, which essentially means your protected when around blood, though I'm not all too sure you really feel safe here at all." It was a level of self-awareness in Petunia that harry hadn't expected from his aunt. 

"Harry, I'm not ignorant to how awful this household has been," she acknowledged, "even if I was not the one personally committing these actions, I'm not ignorant or evil enough to believe you truly deserve this lifestyle," she continued, pausing and deciding to take the conversation in a different direction than she originally planned, "and if your anything like your mother," petunias eyes stared into Harrys own. Not looking at him directly, but missing him, and only seeing the bright emerald colour of her sisters own, "which you are, nothing here would stop you from pursuing this, and with that blasted owl outside," she nodded to the window, which now had a different owl, with similar beady eyes staring at the two through the window, "I can only assume you're expected too, anyway." Petunia crossed her arms, denying herself another drink, at least acknowledging that there should be a limit. 

"my letter," Harry began, nervous to admit something to his aunt, despite this change in attitude. "it's in my cupboard." He Confessed as she looked down her nose to him. Petunia closed her eyes and looked off to the side for a moment. 

"If you want to go," she took a deep breath, as if scared to say what she was thinking, "get the letter and come back at once." She said, turning into the room to find some parchment and a pen. "we must write a reply if we want these cursed owls to leave us be." She once again turned to the owl, who continued to stare unnervingly into the room. 

Wasting no time, harry hopped up from his chair, and rushed to his cupboard to retrieve the letters. And so, Harry and Petunia sat down together, writing a letter as best a drunk woman and ten year old could, before petunia gave up on trying to have concise handwriting, shaking her head and muttering that they probably have a spell to decipher it anyway. Petunia rushed to fetch her slippers and head outside to give the bird the letter. Harry stood by the window to watch as the bird flew away and it was at that moment it sunk in. Watching the owl rush off to Hogwarts, to say he accepted his place. Petunia quickly rushed back inside, locking the door as quickly and quietly as possible. She took off to the kitchen and Harry remained seated, unsure if he should return back to his cupboard. It was only when Petunia returned with a hot chocolate and cup of tea did harry realise that the conversation was far from over. 

"okay, harry," Petunia began, clearly forcing herself to sober up a little to continue this chat. "I want to talk to you about..." Petunia seemed greatly put off by Harrys lack of response to this entire situation. He seemed all too calm, but one would chalk that up to the processing of such a situation. "about people called Death Eaters," she spoke the name with both disgust and fear, paling at the memory of her sisters explanation. "from what I remember hearing, they are blood supremacists who believe they own the magical world because if their familial ties. They follow the man who attacked your parents..." Each time she spoke of her sisters passing, Petunia couldn’t help but feel disgusted by the lie she had allowed Vernon to propagate all these years, "They have a tattoo, on their left arm," she explained, "a snake and a skull," 

Harry sipped his hop chocolate, and looked at his aunt. This entire night had been nothing short of an emotional rollercoaster with several instances of whiplash. As a result, Harry took to his usual response to an emotional overload, and shut down. He continued to listen as his aunt explained his precarious situation, but found it hard to respond emotionally. He was still only a child, how could he have been expected to process any of this? It took petunia a quick second to catch onto this thought. Before she shook her head, and kneeled Infront if him. She mustered what looked like a genuine smile, and stuck her pinkie finger out. 

"Harry," she said, "you're just... a boy." She spoke out loud, as if finally admitting something she had been ignoring her entire life. "You can remember the description of the tattoo right?" She asked, and harry gave a soft, mute nod and Petunias eyes seemed to melt with sympathy. "promise me you'll avoid them, Harry. Pinkie promise me." She asked, breathing shallow breaths, as though breathing less may have made this easier on her. "no skulls, and no snakes." It was such a simple request, that Harry couldn’t help but nod, and take her pinkie with his own. 

"No skulls and no snakes." He agreed, and they shook on it. His aunt let out a tired laugh and stood up straight again. "Hurry up and drink your hot chocolate," she asked, sounding less demanding of him than she ever had in her entire life. "Tomorrow may be an incredibly busy day for us, yet." She nodded. 

Harry couldn’t believe much of what was happening. In the span of a few weeks, Harrys life had undergone such drastic changes, he couldn’t truly believe any of it was happening. Once he finished his drink, Petunia walked him back to his cupboard, muttering about how she'll clear out the second room for him in the morning. The sudden new kindness shown by Petunia was odd to Harry. An abnormality in its own right. Oh, how harry wanted to laugh at the irony of the situation. 

There was a soft hum, before an intelligible sentence, "---Wake up, you can't be serious, did you really fall asleep during the lecture?" The brunette in green was sat beside her, and though she couldn’t make out his face, she could tell he was clearly shocked and disbelieving of her actions, "I can't believe you, ---" there was a muffled hum, as though he was speaking a different language, before she understood him again, "this is serious, we are partners in this class and I cannot have you dragging down my grades with your own." But the girl wasn’t really listening, the only evidence she gave to show she was even awake, was by shifting her head slightly, and looking up at her friend from under her elbow and long curtains of hair. 

"pick up your head,---" another muffled sound passed his lips. "were making the draught of living dead, and you better hope to have a talent for it," he spoke threateningly, "or else I will personally force feed you the entire bloody potion we make." He finished the threat with a gentle push to her head. The response only earned an amused puff of air from the nose from the small blonde as she finally decided to lug up her head. 

"Not all of us can be super geniuses," she sighed, "I completely forgot about my transfiguration homework and stayed up late doing it." She complained, a muffled noise escaped her lips, a name, perhaps? "---told me about it, and I still didn’t do it. How annoyed do you think she'll be with me?" The girl twirled her blonde locks between her fingers, sparing a glance to the boy next to her, noticing his irritated expression. Like brotherly disappointment. 

"before you flip your wig," she started, "I wasn’t in the class. I had an accident and was unfortunately," the word was said with such glee neither of the pair seemed the believe she found it unfortunate at all, "was stuck in the medical wing." Watching her partner get up and stride to the cupboards, the blonde swiftly tried to follow, grabbing whatever she saw written on the chalk board up front. 

"honestly, you're going to fail transfiguration," and just like that, the name buzzed within her head, like an arrow, shooting through his heart, the pain sent through their nerves was so severe, so damning, like a jolt of electricity. This violent reaction shook Harry awake from his dream turned nightmare, leaving one name buzzing in his ears. 

"Mendina"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this entire fic so far has been written at like 4am (⌣̩̩́_⌣̩̩̀) only responsible activities from Pozpop


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